


In The Witch's Moving Bakery

by sugarby



Series: magic au [2]
Category: Final Fantasy XV, World of Final Fantasy (Video Game 2016)
Genre: Bakery, Gen, M/M, Magic AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-20
Updated: 2017-03-20
Packaged: 2018-10-08 08:51:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10382946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sugarby/pseuds/sugarby
Summary: A witch's means to live a normal life working in his family's bakery means naught to the mentor who insists his one and only student take the entrance exam to a top, magic academy.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by my continuing fun playing World Of Final Fantasy and a spontaneous idea I didn't know where to take. This isn't necessarily related to the first three parts in the collection but it's more or less a parallel to it. I've been sitting on this for a month but as a birthday present to myself for tomorrow, I'm finishing this today!

Prompto Argentum bakes because he enjoys it.

His mother owns and runs a small bakery in their town— _'The Moving Bakery'_ named after one incredible, magical, animated film—and he mostly operates it from the front counter. For many hours a day, he repeats the rhythmic routine of greeting customers, making coffee then pouring it, waving goodbye and getting ready for the next. It's not enough for him to simply borrow money if he can, at least, work for it; to build himself up with confidence and independence. Prompto respects his mother for that, and working here for her is alright, he just doesn't intend for this job to last forever.

But what's next? He doesn't know. And not knowing, really, where he'll be or what he'll be doing later is on the agenda for occasional concern.

Prompto Argentum bakes because he's actually pretty decent at it.

That's likely just the modest way of putting his skills. He has, he thinks what those who often praise him call, a natural knack for it. Or it can be traced back to all the times, when he was younger, he watched his mother whip up something good in their cozy apartment kitchen. And the times, when he was grounded in the past, his mother put him to labor just when The Moving Cafe was first finding its feet. Anyway, it's second-hand nature now; so much it's a whisper of talent more than skill. Ever since, he's rolled up sleeves—( _or he would do_  but about seventy-percent of his shirts are without any)—and his hands have worked magic. He never means to brag when he talks about what he does and what it's like (while still keeping things back) but when he's asked by those who pester because they so badly want to know, he ends up practically singing like a canary. The customers, _his recurring_ customers of mostly college girls and elderly women don't accept any modest from him whatsoever; a boy as cute and charming as he, they like to think, deserves praise and compliments where they're due, and they are due in so many places. They can't quite put their fingers on what it is that makes them feel so good, so peaceful, positive, courageous, open when they eat the goods he makes, but they're grateful, awed.

It's his _special, little magic_ he works.

Because Prompto Argentum also bakes for the practice. In baking? No, not entirely, and not only.

In the bakery, there is also Tama, his companion. A white fox that floats and talks. Beside her long, outstanding ears are blue ribbons, and curling around her tail are a rainbow of stars, meeting her gold crown near the end. To public eyes, she's no more than the stuffed toy she pretends to be in their presence. Also, she's technically the _familiar_ but being as Prompto is more invested in living normally than magically, she makes a good friend.

"A good the-morning to you, Prompto!" greets Tama.

Prompto, coming downstairs mid-yawn, says, "Moooooornin', Tams."

"What's your the-plan for today?"

"Choc-chip cookies."

Tama anticipates their tastiness with a lick of her lips. In her mind, she sees the cookies in her mind from memory, fresh and warm and gooey, flooding the bakery with their tantalizingly amazing scent! "Yum!"

"Double yum."

"You're up a little the-earlier though."

Prompto doesn't tell her but he couldn't really sleep. He was having some weird dreams again. Actually, he knows he should call them what they likely are: _visions_ , being as he's mildly precognitive. He long before was told by his mentor that when becoming a certain age, witches discover their 'supernatural knack'. Phasing, flying, telekinesis and etcetera. _This_ is _his_ , unwanted but permanent. Getting clues about the future, let alone actually seeing parts of it, should be cool, but it only makes differentiating dreams from reality harder for him. Either his nightmare where he's stranded and naked in front of a large audience or his dream with the beautiful mechanic across the road is bound to come true. Prompto avidly votes for the latter. _Ahh_ , Cindy Aurum~

"You're the-day dreaming again!" cries Tama.

Embarrassed, Prompto flusters, "D-Dude! M-mind your own _the_ -business!"

"Oh, you the- _hush_ up and bake your the-cookies already 'cause they won't the-bake themselves!"

Done with their little argument and apologetic, Prompto doesn't need to be told twice. But first, there's something else he feels he has to do.

Tama floats up beside him to watch but gets confused. Her blue eyes can see the ingredients for the cookies—flour, sugar, the chocolate chips—and she can also see _that_ box...brought out for whenever something seriously magical is involved. ' _Oh boy_ ', she thinks. It's a product result of magic and technology, from a company undergoing shameful experiments, something Prompto's involuntarily related to thanks to his father. It's  _Magitek_. The box is wooden, finished off with a shiny gleam and a fitted scanner on top to read a specific imprint for access to whatever's inside.

Prompto, too familiar, runs a wrist across the scanner. It beeps with a red line, registering his tattooed skin, then it opens.

Tama keeps watching as one of the three glass tubes is extracted from within the box's burgundy-cushion interior. The tube holds the combined magical ingredients that were something like fairy dust and something clear and runny. _'Using a potion this the-early?'_ Tama wonders and casts a worried glance to her partner. "If you're the-trying something new in your cookies, can you the-please, at least, set some aside and I'll the-eat those."

"Don't worry, it's for my cupcakes."

"What cupcakes?"

"Why, only the _amazing_  ones I baked late last night. And _this_ is gonna be the secret ingredient in the frosting."

"But why?"

"Because...I think Noct's coming today."

Noctis, the best friend since elementary school. The only guy who's cool enough to manage rocking unkempt hair like Prompto himself (who swears he just wakes up this good). There was a glimpse of dark hair, of deep blue eyes, of that cute, single mole beside lips, and the hint became a full, clear picture that it would be Noctis coming in to the bakery today. It could be no one else than Noctis, Prompto was very certain.

Anxious while excited, Prompto's ambivalence has him chewing on his bottom lip. He and Noctis haven't seen each other for a while and knowing he'll be here soon ties knots within the baker's stomach. Just how reliable are the dreams he has straight after a sugar-fix anyway? And he can _just about_ see bits and pieces of the future; they last for under a minute and are hazy, usually colorless. 

"What are you the-planning to do with that, Prompto?" Tama asks.

Prompto swallows, though his nerves hardly calm. A shaky hand picks up the tube, its cork-lid wavers in its separation from the body. "I want Noct to accept me, Tama. I want...I've thought about it a lot and...I'm gonna let him in on everything. That I'm—that _I can do magic_."

"I understand that you'd want that, but it's the-probably not a good idea."

 _'Probably'_  Prompto agrees in his mind, but he's more worried about what can happen if he doesn't go through with this side-plan. From the fridge, he fetches the already made six cupcakes, evenly split between vanilla and chocolate. He places the charm/potion inside a decorating syringe and squeezes it inside the frosting resting on the heads of the cupcakes. It should be harmless, and he's given the frosting enough flavour to leave the 'secret ingredient' untraceable by tongue.

"What if this doesn't go the-well? I mean, you practice a the-lot and still mess up!"

"Gee, thanks. It was an easy charm-spell to make and I followed the recipe, okay? I added a pinch of this, a sprinkle of that, a tea-spoon of, err, whatchumacallit."

Tama's head droops as she sighs heavily. "Oh, Prompto, this won't—"

"Oh, crap! He's here! Uh—quick, Tama, hide!"

Rather than being handled gently, the companion is grabbed like the stuffed toy she would've preferred to act as over being hidden behind the counter like a dirty secret. Oh, well, now she's starting to see the brighter side to all of this, that the sooner the magical secret is revealed, the sooner she can present herself in all her cuteness, too.

The door to The Moving Cafe opens and its bell above the door chimes.

Prompto takes in one, deep breath but his nerves are no calmer, his heart no longer feeling lodged in his throat and starving him of his routine greeting.

Noctis' steps are hesitant as he passes over the doorway. He pokes his head in through the door first, though, acting like a scared, small animal. It's hilarious and steals a chuckle out of Prompto, who so badly feared breaking the ice first. It startles Noctis; he glances over, then away, suddenly too shy. But he eventually finds himself and slowly but casually comes closer to the front counter. For a while first, however, the two young men are silent and just stand and observe each other, taking in all constants and changes.

"Well, look at you. Four months later and you still own only black clothes, huh?"

Noctis blinks. "Uh, yeah..." 'Lame', he thinks of himself, but soon comes back with, "But you shouldn't really be judging me about my clothes when your hair still looks like a Chocobo's ass."

"Screw you! My hair's awesome. You're jealous big time, pal."

"Yeah, right." Noctis smiles. "...Hey."

Prompto waves, "H-Heyaz."

"It's been a while, huh."

"Yuuup."

"...Sorry."

"No, no! You were...you've been busy. I...I get it."

"Yeah..." Noctis nods. It's obvious his apology isn't needed like he thought. "Uh, so I came here to buy—"

"Cupcakes!"  
  
"How'd you—"

Prompto can't pass it off as a 'good guess', it'd be a blatant understatement. He also can't explain it's due to this morning's premonition. But with or without this being the case, he can easily say it's because, " _I know you_." proudly, as if it's a talent. He slides the cupcakes beside him over to Noctis. "Here you go, man."

Noctis holds the cupcakes in their pink box, which he seems to thoroughly expect for hidden surprises. He's mostly surprised, with every reason to be. "...Thanks."

"Try one." Prompo says, _begging_ on the inside.

"I will." Noctis promises, meaning not now. "How've you been all this time?"

"G-Good." Prompto tries not to stare hard at the untouched cupcakes. The brush of Tama's fur against his legs is a little reassuring, knowing a friend who already supports him completely is nearby. "How 'bout you? How goes the Prince-ly stuff?"

" _It goes_. Since I'm still in school, I don't get to do or say much just yet. _But_ they let me sleep in on Sundays. And I get to pick my own underwear and socks."

"Whoa, you're living the dream."  
  
" _Could_ be if Ignis lightened up. He's  _invested_ in his job as my adviser, so I don't get to have much fun."

" _Aw_ , you have a babysitter."

"No, 'cause I'm not a baby. I get he's looking out for me but he doesn't even let me near junk food. Says I'll get fat and that a King can't be admired if he doesn't eat a balanced meal. But get this, Ignis comes in here, to your bakery, more often than not."

Prompto starts trying to place a face to the infamous name, "Glasses? Posh accent? Tall and looks like he doubles as a spy? Can barely crack a joke around him?"

"That's Ignis." Noctis affirms. "He's the way he is but I love him like a brother despite it, same as you." 

Hearing that makes Prompto hope, makes him think that maybe he didn't need to charm his best friend's cupcakes. "Dude, any time I see you, I think back to when we became friends at my tenth birthday party the school threw for me."  
  
"I caught you, away from our classmates, pinching cookies for yourself and I promised not to tell if you let me in on the action."  
  
Prompto grins, "You kept your word."  
  
Noctis smiles, crosses his arms, " _And you_ got appendicitis and a week off school. Which is a hard gift to beat."

"The pudding in the hospital I got to eat after made up for it though."

"Really? I thought hospital food sucked."

"It wasn't, like, the best pudding in the world, but it was either that or limp sandwiches. The choice was practically made for me, you know?" Prompto laughs at the end of his sentence, then they're both laughing together. The sound is so whimsical and feels so right, it's like they've never been apart. "D-Dude, why...the hell are we laughing?" Prompto asks out loud between his laughter, his wiping away of tears. "Appendicitis is a serious thing!"

Noctis shrugs. "Guess it's just ironic to meet again in a bakery. It's nice. I've missed this. You. It feels like...I dunno, like this'll be the last time we meet up for a while."

"Right. You'll be King eventually and I'll..." Prompto doesn't know. If he can't even guess after all this time, maybe it's not worth trying to lie and say he'll be on some photography internship, or doing something else just as awesome. If they're going to be apart again and for loner, then this is probably a good a time as any to be as open as he can. "Actually, Noct...there's something I should...I mean, I'm worried you might think differently of me when I tell you this...this crazy thing, but..."

"Don't worry, it'll be alright." Noctis says, reaching for the box, picking out the closest cupcake—a blue wrapped, vanilla frosted and scented one.

"And...you know that for sure?"

Noctis swipes a thumb across the head of the cupcake, licking the frosting off with a confident smile—the kind girls fall at his feet over, the kind Princes charm princesses in fairy-tales with, the kind that melts you. Another cause for the premonition, Prompto first thought, was his irrational crush on his childhood friend. That secret, however, he won't be spilling, not even if charms are involved. "I'll find ways to make time for a loser like you again."

He means it kindly, because they're both dorks and aware of it. Hearing this sets up hope within Prompto, and at the same time, fear, that he won't be promised this continuous friendship if he does confess his secret. Tama's right, it's risky, he knew it, too. But Prompto was brave and determined for a moment. He trusts Noctis not to throw him away once he finally knows, but at the same time, their friendship is too precious to bet that on. So, Prompto is going to let himself keep his secret for awhile longer.

"Guess I'll see you when I see you, huh?"

Prompto dramatically rolls a hand forward and bows, " _Your Majesty_ , it's been a _roya_ l  _pleasure_."

Noctis waves him down with a smile, "At ease, _Crown Citizen_."

Just like that, Noctis leaves, like he never even came. 

Prompto releases a breath he hadn't intended to hold. It's been good to see his best friend—he's missed him, truly. But it's held him back from revealing the truth. He's still too worried he'll be rejected by the only friend he's ever had luck with making.

"Feel any the-better?" Tama asks, emerging from behind legs and the counter.

"No." groans Prompto, because Noctis may have sample some of the charmed cake by licking the frosting, but he hadn't been told any magical truth to react to; Prompto psyched himself up to in his head and bailed at the last second. Things between them seemed too good to spoil with such a risk. And now Noctis is gone, and the charm on the cakes will wear off within fourteen hours.

"Boy, you can't catch a break."

"I'm gonna go _break_ some eggs," Prompto says, stepping back to his working station part of the counter with thumbs up even though his face holds no excitement. "You know, before I break my head from repeatedly slamming it against the wall."

"Wait!" Tama cries, not out of concern for her partner's well-being, but in panic. "I couldn't the-say earlier while Noct was still here, but...!"

"... _But_...?" Prompto echoes, curious but cautious.

"Master Ardyn's on his the-way."

" _What_?!"

"In fact," Tama adds just as the bells above the door chime again, spreading not happiness this time but daunt, horror, a reason for Prompto to be on his toes. "He's the-already here."

The front doors to the bakery open once again, and though they're open now, no one enters through it. No, for this approaching presence, this person warned to be coming has a quirky knack for doing things and putting their own eccentric brand on everything and anything to enable people to link them to things. Even in the wake of Winter, no weather so furious and cold has erupted across the town like the whirl of a storm that, out of nowhere, strikes in the center of the bakery, whipping around promotional flyers--even Tama, poor thing, if she weren't clutching the counter-top by the tips of her nails.

Prompto puts a hand up to shield his face from the whips and flicks of his hair, reacting to the powerful force of air.

Then it all falls...the storm, its gray color embodied of dust and darkness, of negativity. What stands in it is a man, very familiar, very known, very-much uninvited here. 

The man named Ardyn's smile isn't as friendly as it is mischievous, and he speaks with pace and sophistication but teasingly nevertheless with his light tone. Taking down his dark fedora in a greeting bow, he says, "Since my surprise visit has enlightened you so much you're rendered speechless, allow me to strongly hint that the words you're searching for are similarly along the lines of _long time, no see'_ "

But au contraire, Prompto's eventual response is to cross his arms over his chest and say, "The words I think I'm probably searching for, actually, I won't say since Tama is young and impressionable and this bakery is PG-rated."

"Here I am, but alas, you don't seem happy to see me after all these months that have passed."

Tama had been excessive and relentless, yanking on his leg and hurriedly whispering, to avoid detection from Noctis, that she could sense a high power coming. Prompto, assuming it was another near-death experience on the horizon before noon, panicked. But it's only _him_ , showing his face as rare as he does. And had Prompto known, he would've panicked more. If only, he thinks, his premonition had foretold this unwanted visit, giving time in advance to make himself scarce—lock the doors and windows, close all the curtains. Conjured up a 'sold' sign from an illusion spell out front to make it like he was _far gone_. 

"You're behaving out of sorts," is Ardyn's old-fashion mannered way of labeling Prompto as _awkward_. "We've been apart for much, too long, it seems."

Prompto scoffs, "Not long enough, if you ask me."

"Come now, dear Prompto. You're meant to _welcome_ patrons to this lovely establishment."

"What are you doing here, Ardyn? What do you _want_?"

"Coffee, to start with." Ardyn curls under a finger and the nearest chair to the nearest, small table for two _backs out_ for him to settle down on. He does this as normally as he would with any other piece of furniture or any other natural action, as if he belongs here when he's unwanted, a dark cloud ruining an otherwise clear, sunny sky. Ardyn clicks twice and says, "Black. Two sugars."

Speaking of his _soul_ , Prompto agrees to himself in his mind while unwillingly replying with, "Coming right up, Sir." just to avoid a complaint against him, because that means a complaint against his parents' bakery and he won't shame them if he can help it. He trusts Ardyn with ironically writing up a letter with paragraphs of how dissatisfied he is with the running of the place, when he can easily summon another storm to appear and tell Mr and Mrs Argentum himself, or can even send his pet Crow to deliver the message.

" _That_ 's more like it."

Prompto rounds the counter to work the coffee machine, fetching one of the big cups to stick underneath. When Ardyn wants coffee, he's prepared to be patient for as long as it takes. Coffee, to him, is a drive for life, perking him up and not-so-subtly amping up his strength, making him harder to get rid of and bypass. Should someone his age really be dependent on caffeine anyway?' Prompto wanders out of spite more than curiosity, but heaven forbid he ever ask out-loud or he'll earn a smack across the head probably.

Tama floats beside him to ask, "Did _you_ know he was the-coming today, Prompto?"

"Would've left the country, Tama." says Prompto.

The thing about this man, Ardyn Izunia, is that he's very odd— _eccentric_ for a teacher, for a _person_. His methods of teaching are hazardous spells with near to no counter-spell to them, ruling fires in his town and asking people to give Prompto puzzling stares. He allows beasts to run amok sometimes, waiting for his clearly-out-of-depth student to reach for power he swears he doesn't have and stop it. It all usually takes place in large areas like parks, these 'sessions', but when they get out of hand, they really get out of hand and Ardyn sits back to watch it all, finding it quite humorous (but it really wasn't _humorous_  to Prompto when he almost went bald from a fire demon Ardyn lured from a dungeon in the magic realm, and it never did grow back in its natural direction). Funnily, for a man whose spot of humor is cruel, sadistic, if not for his intervention then Prompto's soul would've been eaten by a demon long ago. In the struggle to escape from it, he luckily was left with only a scarring mark—a sign that he would've become like them had he not repelled the dark magitek power, despite being suspected to be weak to it as his magical sense and experience is not at expert level: a bar-code, like he belongs to a mass-produced machinery, like he's nothing more or less than the scar's worth. Ardyn saved him back then, and it's a deed his student never forgets or takes for granted

Prompto comes over with the cup on a tray, neatly settling it down on the table later. He watches the entire time, impatiently, as Ardyn picks up his order and takes one, long sip, savoring not the taste but this moment more of his opportunity to get a ruse out of his...ah, _student_.

"Well?" Prompto asks.

"I nearly burnt my tongue. And, maybe it's been a while, but two sugars certainly shouldn't taste this bland. I suspect you, your family and their business won't do well in the long run if these are the standards."

"You _threatening_ me?! You son of—!"

"Now, now, none of that. _Nonverba, silenzio_!" Ardyn says and snaps his fingers. He watches Prompto fume as his lips twist inwards, leaving him to try and speak but only give muffled cries. He outright rages, hands waving and face reddening while his spellbound lips suspend his oxygen intake. Ardyn chuckles at his fun before snapping away the spell.

"Dude!" Prompto says, glaring, a hand caressing his throat as his half-gasping fit nears to end. "Not cool!"

"Mind your manners around your _superior, wiser_ elders then."

"Oh, just get the fuck out!"

"Ouch, you wound me. I've come all this way, as busy as I am, thinking that you, my dear boy, my bright and sole apprentice, would augur well from the grandest opportunity in this millennia."

"I'm underage. Also, totally not and never will be interested."

" _No, no_ , I'm not _propositioning_ , you crude child." Ardyn firmly says, his tone a hint of warning that such a reference shouldn't be made again. "I'm here to inform you that I've generously recommended you to the people in charge of running a top magical school. Over 98% percent of graduates proceed to become powerful witches."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, wait, hold on. You want _me_?"

" _I_ already _have_ you, you're _my_ student."

"I mean—" Prompto squints at the sick image of Ardyn and he, _together_. "You want me to try out for a top-notch school when I'm..." for lack of words, his arms fall to his sides after a pitiful attempt at motioning to his scenery—the messy bakery, where flour and desserts are, not mythical creatures or sophisticated, magical tools. His lessons with Ardyn have always been private, never among a class of others.

Being the close friend of Prompto's asshole of a father who fucked off some years after his birth, Ardyn felt compelled to be 'responsible' for the child who, if cut off his father completely, would miss out on a great, magical deal. (And, secretly, he may or may not have ulterior motives to raise a one-man army, but that's another story).

"Sorry, it's already been sorted. I recommended you earlier this week and you're expected to partake in the three part enrollment exam."

"You've gotta be shittin' me."

"You're _shitting welcome_." Ardyn smiles, despite his doing. "My boy, not everyone can have an esteemed, powerful, charming wizard such as myself vouch for them. It's more than obvious you're outmatched in many areas due to your preference to be home-schooled by me every other weekend—"

"I've got school...and other stuff." Prompto vaguely mumbles, eyes shifting on and off his mentor.

"You can go to a much _better_ one. To reject this opportunity is to reject me, and if you do that, well..." Ardyn rises from his seat, cane on the ground before his feet and his hat on his head. "It'll be bad for you, to say the least."

"Stop _threatening_ me! This isn't fair, Ardyn! I'm normal!"

"No, you're not."

"Well I wanna be!"

"But you can't."

 

Prompto believes he's close to pulling out his own hair, or breaking something that isn't an _egg_. He returns behind the counter and works his hand on kneading cookie dough. He pummels it with fists channeling his current frustration and the dough repeatedly hits the counter-top. His complaints carry on between each smack of the dough meeting the marble, "I can't believe—" _smack!_ "—you went behind my back and—" _smack! poof!_ He stops, exhausted and pointedly glares at the man behind his misery. "Ugh! You know what, Ardyn?!"

" _Careful_ , now. One swipe of a finger and I'll either sew your lips shut or transform you in to a creature."

"Go ahead. I know the spell to turn myself back."

"Ah, _do you_?" Ardyn bets he doesn't. Even if his prime student does happen to know the spell confidently, he can't cast it while transformed. How will a frog hold a wand? Mimic the words of the spell? Ardyn sighs at the glare he's receiving and sets down his half-drunken cup. "Prompto, I haven't traveled here for a  _fight_. You'll thank me for this later; it truly is an honor to attend this specific academy—I, myself, went there. Oh, you _must_ accept my offer and do me proud. It can't be retracted now anyhow  _but_ you are, after all, my most promising protégé."

"Dude, like an energy-drink?!"

"No, you the-dummy!" cries Tama. "He's saying you're his _most promising the-student_!"

"I'm his  _only_ student."

"Ardyn's the-right, nonetheless! You the-deserve to attend a nice school too!"

"Tama, I'm no good!" Prompto feels like screaming it. His feelings which everyone seems to be forgetting exist and that he knows himself and his limitations, his doubts. There's a line between him and other magically gifted because they've had proper experience and more advanced training, whether his mentor is a powerful wizard whose name many fear to whisper or not. "I'm _miles_ behind them all!"  
  
True, but what Ardyn can see in Prompto is the he's the sort of wizard whose magic is best when driven by raw emotion rather than mentality. Not books but heart, and that is a powerful quality in itself. "You are indeed rusty, but some oil and you'll be good as—"  
  
"I'm not a _robot_."  
  
Tama says, "If you the-were, you apparently wouldn't even be the-aware of it."  
  
"Oh, _I'd know_." Prompto says miserably. "I'd be the squeaky one lagging behind."  
   
"So then is this the life you want?" Ardyn asks, looking around the bakery. "Merely to bake and have naught to socialize with besides yours truly and your familiar? To not grow and improve the _gifted_ part of you?"

"It's the only life I've got, isn't it?"

"You lack confidence."  
  
"Someone with too much would notice. Share some, huh?"

"I can do better than pass some of my confidence on to you, my student. I can teach you to find some for yourself. I won't be taking no for an answer, know that now and forever. But let me also remind you of your outstanding wish to make friends and be useful."

Prompto rubs his arms, feeling exposed. "I-I have Noct."

"He doesn't know who you are,  _what_ you are. Flimsy charms in baked goods will hardly—"

"Enough!" Prompto snaps, feeling on trial and ashamed for his not-so-good attempt.

"Go to this school and these spells and charms you work so hard to brew will come to you like _that_ ," Ardyn snaps for emphasis, and little dark sparks actually jump about between his fingertips—proof of his word.

Prompto stares, thoughtfully. He turns to his only real friend around right now, Tama. "What do you think I should do?"

Tama says, "It's true you can do the-great things, Prompto. And I know Master Ardyn's the-magic is very strong. Why shouldn't you get to learn more, be more?"

"Well, I...Noct is..."

"He's your the-friend, right? While he's busy the-being all he can be as king, what about the-you?"

"What about me?! Let's be _real_. I've lived a pretty-normal life all my life and the few spells Ardyn has taught me, I still mix up!"

"It's normal to be the-nervous but Ardyn put you the-forward through a recommendation because he the- _believes_ in you! He's a well-known magic the-master who decided to train _you_! That says a the-lot! You may lack experience but you the-can pick that up and gain confidence."

She's right, Prompto realizes. They both are. Being King is hard but Noctis is trying. Prompto should try to. And this is a once in a lifetime opportunity; his father's decision to be a dick and disappear shouldn't be allowed to ruin that. Prompto gives his companion a massive hug, "Tama...you're _the-amazing_. Everything you've said, I...I needed it. I'm lucky to have you."

Tama smiles, beaming. "I the-love you _too_! Now let's do it, we're gonna the-kick butt in the exam!"  
  
Prompto turns to his mentor, "So, when do I leave?"

"Right now." Ardyn taps his cane to the floor and darkness seeps from below it, spreading and growing, opening up a bottomless-like vortex in the floor.

Prompto wants to say so much right now, before he plummets, about not having chance to pack, about having just been told about this exam literally ten minutes ago, about what a dick his mentor loves to be, but the second his feet can no longer feel the bakery's tiled floor is the second he falls. He dangles above the opened space no more but falls down it, feeling as helpless and anxious as Alice did heading to Wonderland.

"Good luck," are Ardyn's final words as his student drops in to his conjured-up abyss.

**Author's Note:**

> *It's apparently acceptable for men to be known as witches, too. That explains the title.   
>  *Ardyn's familiar would be a Crow simply because they're said to be depicted mostly as such and they represent death, misfortune. Plus, the black wing-like garment on his arm.   
>  *"non verba/silenzio" according to the not completely trustworthy google translate is latin for 'not a word/hush'.   
>  *I'm always writing about cafes/bakeries having bells above their doors that ring when customers enter but in reality, I've never entered an establishment with one.   
>  *I totally went half the day speaking like Tama after my first go at the game and don't _the_ -regret it one _the_ -bit!   
>  Thanks for reading, I hope it's been enjoyable!~ <3 ᕙ(^-^)


End file.
